Man of Steel
by Doctor Ella
Summary: A recently hospital-released Bosco realizes how taxing his injuries have become through a series of deplorable events.


**Chapter one**

The gun was trembling viciously in my hand as I continued to stare down at it, but I knew what I needed to do. I stared into the dark, hollow barrel and asked over and over again in my mind how I had managed to survive being shot so many times by such a powerful weapon. Was it luck? Well. . . I don't believe in luck. To this day, I still don't understand how I'm alive, but I am, and I'm going to have to live with this mangled face and my torn soul until the day I die.

That day changed me.

Everything about me changed the minute I took those four bullets for Faith. Everything. When I woke up in that God-forsaken hospital, I felt out of place in my own skin. I couldn't live with that; I couldn't live as the stranger that I had woken up to be, and I couldn't pretend otherwise. I'll never be the same person I had once been. . . I'm not me.

The gun continued to shake as if it were moving on its own. It was a weird feeling. . . My gun used to be almost a part of me; it was like one of my muscles, moving to the exact spot when I wanted it to, and staying perfectly still when not needed. Not anymore. It's as if the gun itself didn't recognize its owner, and it struggled to jump out of my grasp every time I picked it up. How could I go on living like this? My job was all I had; all I was. And now that had been taken away from me.

I slowly closed my eyes and lifted the gun up next to my mouth. I took a large gulp as I tried to block out the loud beating of my heart and managed to stick the barrel into my mouth. I heard the ringing sound of the cold metal chattering against my teeth continue to proliferate as my hand started to lose control of the weapon. 'Do it.' I told myself over and over. 'Do it!'

* * *

_several weeks earlier_

"Here, Bos, let me help." Faith opened my door and helped me out of the car. It was my first day out of the hospital and Faith was waiting on me hand-over-foot. She was doing anything from opening the door for me to offering to cook me dinner. I appreciated it and everything… I really did, but I couldn't stand feeling so incompetent.

"Thanks," I stood up, struggling to do it without losing my breath and falling over, "but I could have don't it myself." I finished.

Trying to avoid any eye contact, I practically limped right past Faith to the stairs that lead to my apartment. I didn't want her to see my face. I didn't want her to see the scars, but more than that, I couldn't let her see my pain. It hurt to walk. I felt like I was being stabbed all over my entire body every time I did something so little as to take a step. I couldn't let Faith see that, because if she did, she would worry. The last thing in the world that I want is for Faith to worry about me. She had been there in the hospital almost every day for me when she should have been with her kids or her lawyer… She had done enough for me. Worrying wasn't going to help anyone.

"Do you need me to help you up the stairs?"

"No." I said firmly. "No, I'm good, thanks."

I took a deep breath and started up the stairs, feeling the sharp pain radiate through my tired body with every grueling step I took. Faith stood behind me, making sure I didn't fall, just watching. I needed her help. I needed Faith, but I wouldn't let myself give into the pain. I could do this; I could make it up the damn stairs by myself.

"Bos, you okay?" Faith's concerned voice called out to me as I stood on the fourth step, trying to catch my breath so that I could ascend the remaining six.

"I'm fine." I started up again, probably sooner than I should have, and I felt my legs start to give out.

"Shit!" My legs buckled and I began to fall backwards, down the set of stairs. I closed my eyes mostly from embarrassment, and waited to feel my body crash to the ground, but it never came.

"Woah!" Faith instinctively reached out when she saw that I was falling, and being as how she wasn't three feet behind me, she caught me.

* * *

"You all set?"

"Yeah, I think I can take it from here."

"You're sure you don't want me to make some dinner? It's really no pro - "

"No, it's okay. Really.

Faith sighed at my characteristic stubbornness and turned and headed towards the door. "Okay Bos, well… take care."

Before she was gone, I decided to speak up.

"Faith, wait." She turned around but said nothing. She just stood there, eyes raised like she was anticipating what I was about to say. But as she stood there, waiting for me to speak up, everything that I was going to say just kind of disappeared. There was so much I wanted to say, but was I honestly going to spill it all to Faith? Was I really going to say, 'Faith, I'm hurting; I can't do this alone. Every time I move, I feel like I'm gunna die… That is unless you're here helping me. I need you.'

Hell no.

I couldn't say that! What am I. Some dependent, emotional basket case? Well, she would sure think so if I ever said _that_! So instead, I said what came to my mind first.

"Thanks."

Faith's face relaxed and she smiled back at me.

"Any time, Bosco." With that, she walked out, leaving me alone in my dark, empty apartment.

* * *

Sitting on the couch was becoming a lifestyle. It felt like I had been there for years. It was about a week since I had gotten home from the hospital, and I wasn't "physically well enough" to go back to work yet, or so says Swersky and Faith. I guess they were right, seeing as how I hadn't done anything but sit in the past couple of months. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hadn't been working my strength back up and gearing towards a "full recovery", I just wasn't quite there yet.

The steady ticking of the clock was driving me insane. "There's got to be something to do." I told myself. There had to be something that I was able to do besides sit on my ass and feel sorry for myself.

I decided I would go for a drive.

Technically the doctor told me not to drive for a month or so, but I think I know whether or not I'm capable of driving more than the doctor does. I got in my mustang - God it felt good to be back behind the wheel - and I started up the engine. I had no clue as to where I was going, but it didn't really matter, as long as I went somewhere.

9:58. I would have still been at work. I wondered what Faith was doing... She might have been on some new interesting case, being as she was a detective now. I wondered if she wanted to go home. Normally at 9:58 on work nights, I want to be home… oh how things had changed. I would have given anything to be at work right then. I missed it. I missed the adrenaline rush every time I was chasing a perp; I missed being bored on slow shifts; I missed riding in 55-David with my best friend.

I rounded the corner and decided to head back home. I had been in the car for almost four hours, and I had gone nowhere but in continuous circles around the city. A lot of gas I wasted.

I must have been ten minutes away from home. I was extremely tired, and was starting to think that maybe I shouldn't have been driving for so long, but I was ten minutes away. I could make it. The pain in my chest was growing as my pain meds were wearing off. I was supposed to have taken another 20mgs at 8:00, but I had completely forgotten, and now it was starting to take a toll on me.

I should have pulled over for a minute to catch my breath, but I was too close to home, I didn't think I would need to stop. I didn't think that a little boy was going to come running through the street right in the path of my speeding mustang.

"Michael!" I heard the scared voice of a woman call out and immediately she had my attention. I had been dazing off. I had been trying to concentrate on getting the pain to stop radiating my body like some damn poison. Normally I would have seen the boy in time for me to stop before he even reached the street… Today wasn't 'normal'.

I slammed on the brakes as fast as I was physically able, but then, we all know that my motor skills hadn't come back to full term yet… I guess that's why I shouldn't have been driving. My reflexes had been improving every day, and if It weren't for my continuous progress, I would have been a milli-second too late.

The car made a horrible screeching sound at the immediate application of the brakes. My entire body flew forward the second I touched those breaks, and immediately snapped me back against the headrest as the car came to an abrupt stop.

_TBC..._


End file.
